AssKick
by Andrea Churchill
Summary: Kendra, a.k.a. Enigma from The Interpreters, revives and not yet dead Damon Macready, a.k.a. Big Daddy.
1. The Body

"**Ass-Kick"** by anfkc

(Lame title, I know… a crossover fanfiction of _Kick-Ass_ and _The Interpreters_)

_Kendra, a.k.a. Enigma, brings back Big Daddy…_

(For those of you who don't know, _The Interpreters_ is a comic, kind of a mix between _Kick-Ass_ and _Watchmen._ There are no powers, and it's very philosophical. T.I. consists of _Enigma_, a female, mysterious hero that practically lurks in shadows and only helps when its least expected and everyone is about to die at last minute, _Birdwing_, a hero similar to _Nite Owl _from _Watchmen _but all the more over-happy and excited, _The Pristinator,_ a high-class, intelligent man similar to _Ozymandias_ from _Watchmen_ and later betrays the team, and _Mr. ______,_ (I forget his name) a NYC vendor whos practically a crazy hunchback, and kind of reminds me of _Loki_, the Norse trickster God, and _Egor _from _Frankenstein_. Sorry, I read the comic a while ago so I forgot a bunch of stuff. Otherwise, none of its really relevant to the story except for Enigma…)

**Warning--Not completely rated R, but the story still has curses, gruesome scenes, etc., considering both movies were pretty intense on that part. Still a bit of my own sympathy, though. Hope you like it. If you have any questions about the story, The Interpreters, or whatever, message or comment. ;D

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_It was pitch black, perfect for those lurking amongst the shadows—where once a fire burnt brightly in the dark; that fire, now extinguished, had still left its marks in the heart and in the soul of one singular individual._

_A father—, who loved his child more than anything in the world, was lost. Not gone, but lost—and only a small capability of hope was left, but for only one to find. But who would dare to look for this lost hope? Who? Who would expect to find it, even? What being could possibly be the savior of this father's lost chance; a father's last chance to see his daughter, once again?_

_An Enigma, surely! Creeping behind the shadows, lurking in the dark, the Enigma makes small moves, like a mysterious ninja. How does she shy from the light, only to blend in and be a part of the darkness? No visible lines, like an invisible cat does the Enigma sprint to and fro. _

_The Enigma stalks the night; she spies the newcomers and learns from the scenes beyond the daytime. This one night, in this one warehouse, does the Enigma happen to prowl through? And finding a half-dead body, she discovers a life at stake could be saved, and doth she takes that risk of renewal. She unleashes the body, she feels and takes capture of the body does she, she removes the body from its premises and back to her headquarters where she shall do what she pleases with the remaining soul…_

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Mindy Macready, a.k.a. Hit Girl did what she could to compose herself before entering the warehouse. If she needed to remove her father's dead body and dispose of it officially, then she needed to do it without losing control of her emotions. She was on her own, despite the unneeded help of Dave Lizewski, Kick-Ass, and she needed to be strong if it was going to stay that way. Hit Girl didn't like thinking badly of Kick-Ass—he helped her out a lot, like having her go to public school for the first time in her life, where she's for the most part made a lot of new friends and learned a bunch of new stuff she's never gotten to experience before when she lived with her father, Damon Macready, a.k.a. Big Daddy.

But she was still alone in the world deep down. Ever since her father's horrible death, Mindy knew nothing would ever be the same again. Ever. Mindy was only 11, for crying out loud! Why did life have to be this way? Why did such a little girl like herself have to be stripped of such a close bond at such a young age? Sure, she was the coolest hero out there, mastering every form of weapon and martial arts style one could possibly imagine…but living in this world of violence and weapons at such a young age…it did anything but wonders for the mind.

Mindy took a deep breath, and entered the warehouse. It was pitch black, and most likely the power was out anyway, so there was no use in trying to find a light switch. Hit Girl came prepared—she clicked on a flashlight, and searched the place.

She was familiar with it all—she knew the inside like she lived there. She followed down the same halls she did to save her father and her friend, and shone the light over the same bullets and knives she used to kill the enemies. Each bullet was a flashback to the horrid memory she couldn't strip from her mind. Each puddle of dried blood was a reminder of what had happened. Or, more importantly, what shouldn't have happened in the first place.

Hit Girl came to the area where Big Daddy and Kick-Ass once sat, tied to chairs sitting on puddles of gasoline, being beaten out of their wit. The memories, the flashbacks—they were too great. She couldn't bear to remind herself of the pain her father had to go through.

But she had to remind herself to be strong. How could she handle seeing her father's dead, burnt body, if she couldn't handle remembering the event when he died?

That is, if she could find her father's dead body.

Where was it? Hit Girl knew she was in the right area, she could almost still smell the scent of burning flesh and gasoline and blood. '_This is where it happened, I know it._' Hit Girl kept telling herself. '_This is where the body should be'_

But it wasn't there. Mindy shone the light over every corner of the room—and she spotted the chairs.

The empty chairs.

Sure, the second one would have been empty. But the first one?

'_Where's the body?! Where the fuck is the fucking body?' _Mindy mumbled, frantically searching around the area.

She approached the chair. Every ounce of insecurity she had inside of her now turned into an immovable frantic feeling. She searched across the chair her father once sat in—she saw the remnants of gasoline, the rope, the blanket she used to take out the flames…

Either her father became a zombie and walked up and out of the chair, which was impossible, or somebody took the body, which was crazy, but not impractical.

'_Why the fuck would anyone take a dead body? Why?' _Mindy kept searching the area like she would actually find something, like the body.

'_Maybe they didn't even take it, maybe they just moved it!' _she convinced herself. But still—why would anyone move a dead body from its original position? For what purpose? And for the same query, why would anyone _take _a dead body?

Hit Girl was mainly afraid of the police, and wondered if _they _possibly could have taken the body, after searching the "crime scene". Thing is, there were no traces of anyone ever being here since the night Damon Macready burned to death. So that wasn't the possibility. Then what was? Some lunatic decided to take a body for their keeping?

Mindy couldn't help but keep cursing in her head. She kept looking around, kept cursing, kept looking around, kept cursing, out loud now. To quote Mindy, _where the fuck was the body? _What could have happened to it?

After about fifteen minutes of continuous searching for clues, Mindy finally got it in her head that one, the body wasn't there, and two, no clues were left to its whereabouts. Mindy finally gave up, and left the building.

Everything seemed so much brighter outside that warehouse. Even though it was nighttime, the sky was so clear and beautiful it made the situation almost peaceful.

….Almost.

Mindy remembered the lyrics to a song she once heard:

_I look to the stars at night_

_Up in the blackest skies,_

_And I wonder--how come the stars are so_

_Universally beautiful_

_When beauty, in so many eyes_

_Can be so different?_

Mindy shook it out of her head. She couldn't think of _songs _at a time like this. She needed to be worrying about the whereabouts of a missing _body_. Her _father's _body. Her _father's missing body…._

Seriously not something a _normal_ 11-year old should be worrying about….ever.

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A/N: More coming soon.


	2. The Enigma

"**Ass-Kick"** by anfkc

_Kendra, a.k.a. Enigma from The Interpreters, brings back Damon Macready, a.k.a. Big Daddy… _

Great news! I found out that _supposedly _they're going to be making a movie for The Interpreters. Like, as in there have been rumors. And guess who's supposed to be playing Enigma?

Give up?

Kristen Stewart! Woo!

If you want a visual on Kendra, I found this picture of Kristen Stewart in which she actually kind of resembles her:

h t t p : / / m e d i a c a t i o n . f i l e s . w o r d p r e s s . c o m / 2 0 0 9 / 0 7 / k r i s t e n - s t e w a r t - 1 0 0 . j p g

(Just take out the spaces)

Alright, I'll hopefully find out more info on The Interpreters, etc., and keep you readers (if anybody is hopefully reading this story) posted. Onward with the fanfiction! In this chapter we meet Enigma, finally.

Weeks went by without any word or clue of the missing body. It just never showed up. Mindy seemed to resort to the fact that _something_ could have happened to it; _anything _could have happened to it. And that's all that mattered. Sure, at first she wanted to dispose of the body properly out of plain respect, but she figured it was just best to leave the matter alone, and forget it ever happened. Life went on.

At least, for Mindy it did.

But for Damon? Life just seemed to be trapped in a cycle of movement. At times, he felt like he was dying all over again. And other times, he felt alive, like taking the first breath after a coma: simply invigorating, tingling with sensation and passion and love and then…it went straight back to horror and an icy chill through his bones.

Damon Macready was too weak to think. He lay in darkness, on a stiff, bitter surface, like a sheet of rock or a flab of stone. He could barely even breathe. The first night he was brought to wherever he was, Damon only had one ounce of feeling left in him—one last breathe—he was not killed by the flames, he had only gone into shock, it could be confirmed. And he really, honestly thought he was going to die, in the darkness, with his daughter off in the world all by herself. '_What did I put her through?' _he found asking himself at the last moment, believing it to be his last thoughts in this world.

And what a feeling it was! Actually realizing that beyond everything that had happened he still lived…but only for how much longer. Knowing he still had not gone yet and still had a chance to be with his daughter—waking up from shock, and seeing she was gone! What a horrid feeling. What a horrid feeling indeed.

Then—he found himself being picked up and carried by the darkness. At first, it felt like a dream. That or it was hell bringing him down into the realm of evil, where he belonged.

But then he realized it was no dream, or death, that carried him but it was a person. A true person—a savior! A savior without a face.

Damon Macready remembered closing his eyes, taking in the sweet sensation of redemption. He remembered being placed down, immovable all the while, on the hard surface that felt all too warm out of a brainwashing of happiness and renewal. He felt his mouth being opened up by soft, tender fingers—painful at first from being so badly burned—but happiness was like life's drug, so, it overruled.

Then, the drug was gone. A liquid was being poured into his throat—directly into his throat. Not only did Damon choke on the forced liquid, but it burned. It was foul. More foul than anything he had ever smelt or tasted in his entire lifetime, or better yet heard of. He could have been poisoned for all he knew. Though he wasn't, it's what he thought.

Strange enough, the sensation made him think of hot chocolate. More specifically, the hot chocolate he would drink with Mindy, and the hot chocolate they promised to drink together after catching the bad guys. The hot chocolate they never got to drink together.

Damon Macready continued to choke, eventually going into painful convulsions on the hard surface he lay on. He was being forced to lay still and take down the rest of the liquid, which was being nearly directly injected down his throat. Next, his clothes began to peel off by unknown hands. At first, Damon thought he was being poisoned _and _raped.

But the unseen person completely stripped Damon Macready of his clothes—and slowly, Damon began to doze. He thought he had escaped death…and to go back into it again? It was useless to fight the feeling. It was surely his time, and he decided to go with it.

Except he _wasn't _dying again. The liquid was an anesthesia—and dozily, mistaking the state for death, he didn't seem to care and easily went to sleep. Meanwhile the enigmatic persona performed on the body in the dark, unseen—dainty but strong hands moved swiftly, but treacherously—beautiful, but dangerous hands ripped and tore and dampened and cut and moistened and burned and wrapped and injected and stitched for hours and hours, nonstop…

The last breath that escaped Damon Macready's mouth wouldn't be his last. A scarred but progressively healing body, the father and sadistic hero slept continuously throughout the process-and when he did wake, he awoke to a dream of darkness and simplicity. A face, above him, watching over him, was the dream. This Enigma—this mysterious woman, was the only thing in the darkness that could be seen through his eyes. Damon, alone, in the midst of the shadows, became a new hero. Reborn in the darkness and mothered by this Enigma…Big Daddy was reborn into something else. One, once fully healed, would be released back into the world a different man. Damon Macready wasn't _really _in a dream, however it seemed. He was in reality. And he still was a father. He still had a daughter, out there.

But in his trance of darkness, Mindy seemed to fade away like a past memory. One the old Damon knew.

But this new Damon…the new Damon Macready…he was no father.

He was nothing but the son of darkness;

The son of the beautiful Enigma.

A/N: Comment? :/ :o :D


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